Theatricality
by vanillafluffy
Summary: The reigning queen of the Gotham stage encounters a charming young man named Bruce Wayne. Will romance bloom?


I own no rights to the character Bruce Wayne, or to Barbara Gordon. Bruce is doing community service at the Westside Home for the Elderly as a result of a deal he made in **Fortune Cookie**.

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**Theatricality**

Miss Marlena Wentwell has resided in the top floor apartment since the days when she was the reigning queen of the Gotham stage and it was the penthouse suite of the Sterling Hotel. That is...she has to stop and think: what decade is it, anyway? She was in her thirties back then, and now she is---much older than that, her mirror reveals to her sadly. Even with everything she knows about make-up, Miss Wentwell is unable to erradicate what Time has done to her. She was quite the chameleon in her day, but now the devices and artifices she wielded with such skill are inadequate to the task of revealing her beauty. Nonetheless, she'll do what she can before going downstairs for dinner. She wouldn't want Stanley to think she's stopped trying to be attractive for him.

Stanley Sterling has been an Angel to more than one of Marlena's productions. They've been carrying on a quiet little affair for some time now, but he hasn't visited her in---oh, several weeks, at least. He's a decade her senior, and this is his hotel. She hopes he's not tiring of her, getting ready to trade her in for a younger woman. That would be a shame, because Marlena has been meaning to talk to him about Billie? Bobbie? Gordon. She's just a little bit of a thing, but she's articulate and a graceful dancer, and Marlena is sure she's ready for a good ingenue role.

The girl is one of the maids, Miss Wentwell presumes, and she asks a lot of questions about theatrical magic. Although she doesn't wear a proper uniform, she's a nice child all the same; Marlena Wentwell has decided she will not report the uniform issue to Stanley. Young Becky---Betty? Something beginning with a "B". Her last name, Gordon, Marlena remembers because she had a crush on a boy named Gordon Hazlett, back in grammar school...the girl shows promise. She may blossom into a character actress one day--she's very clever with the make-up tricks she's learned from Marlena.

Going down to the lounge for a cocktail before dinner, Miss Wentwell pauses in the foyer. Goodness, the crowd is much older than usual this evening---it's probably been years since any of them has stayed up late enough to see one of her performances. She has a pen with her just in case someone does want an autograph---as well as a book of crossword puzzles to give her a reason for bringing the pen, so it doesn't look like she has a big head because she's a star.

Her favorite seat by the window is available. It gives Marlena a good view of the street, so she can watch people going past. It's very important for an actress to observe people--one never knows when something will lend itself to a characterization--but to her disappointment, there is very little to see this evening.

It's raining, and the avenue seems more drab than usual, with little traffic. There's trash in the gutters; the street sweepers had better get cracking. A good hotel like the Sterling shouldn't have such grubby surroundings. It lowers the tone.

No matter, she'll work on a puzzle for a little while before going in to dinner. Finding her place, she reads the clues. "A Night at the ----" Opera. That's easy enough. She remembers watching the Marx Brothers antics on a date, when she was about Betsy's? Bonnie's? age. Blank Barrymore. Four letters. John, of course. She had a bit part in one of his plays near the beginning of her career---only summer stock, but oh, the thrill of working with one of the greatest stars of the theater!

Marlena is puzzling over 39 down: the answer should be "widow" for the clue to make sense, but there is no "w" in John. Perplexing.

"Good evening, Miss Wentwell," says a deep voice beside her, and Marlena glances up to behold a good-looking young man. He wears a parchment-colored shirt under a coffee brown cardigan the same shade as his slicked-back hair. She approves of the ensemble---it makes his hazel green eyes look even greener. Familiar looking---he reminds her of someone she knows through Stanley. Yes, that's certainly who he is, one of Stanley's friends. He knows who she is, at any rate.

"You're looking marvelous this evening!" she greets him, beaming. "I'm glad the weather didn't keep you away. I'm sure Stanley will be here any time now."

His hazel green eyes blink, and he assures her with exquisite courtesy that they will have a pleasant evening with or without Stanley. This handsome devil actually thinks he can win her away from her lover? It's laughable---although Stanley hasn't been around much lately--perhaps she ought to hear this one out. That's the trouble with married men; the allure of carrying on a double life wears thin.

"I'm sure we will," she agrees. This well-groomed specimen isn't wearing a ring. She should make a play for him. Her looks won't last forever. "My dear--"

"Bruce--Bruce Wayne."

"Of course, how silly of me!" Now that he's said so, she can see it in his bones. Marlena carefully closes the cover of her book. It wouldn't do for him to think that she was more interested in those silly puzzles than him. "Which one of Douglas's brothers are you?"

"His grandson," Bruce replies, and the reigning queen of Gotham theater laughs at the jest. He's quite baby-faced, while Douglas is solemn and serious beyond his years---Douglas hasn't a fraction of this one's wit.

"I know Douglas is the oldest, then Charles..." She knows there's another brother, but wasn't his name Harold or Henry or---? She must be thinking of someone else. "You must be the baby of the family," she teases Bruce, who seems a bit taken aback.

"I _am _younger than they are," he admits shyly. Boyish good looks and money and no wedding ring... There has to be some family money, even if he is the third son. Families like the Waynes always have a trust fund or two tucked away. What a catch he'd be! And what a divine couple they'd make...

Marlena steals a look at her reflection to be sure her hair is arranged, and is dismayed to see an old woman looking back at her. Bruce's reflection is young and handsome, but she has somehow aged, become one of Macbeth's witches...her lower lip trembles.

"There's a very nice boeuf bourguignon on the menu this evening," Bruce says, and Marlena pulls herself together. She will not descend into maudlin pathos; it's clear that her time has passed. There is a newer Sterling Hotel uptown, and the official name of her residence is the Westside Home for the Elderly. It's time for new faces, like Bessie's. She can still encourage others, even though her own faded dreams are collecting dust upstairs.

"I'd be delighted if you could dine with me, Bruce." Miss Marlena Wentwell bestows on him a smile befitting a queen, even a monarch of such a tattered queendom as hers. "Do you have an interest in the theater?" she asks as they stroll toward the dining room, her hand on his arm. There is no sign of Stanley Sterling; he may be in the kitchen attending to details of the meal--she tells herself that _of course _he is somewhere on the premises--but for now she will enjoy the company of young Bruce and try to coax him into underwriting little Barbara's career.

After all, the theater always needs patrons. Perhaps she can persuade Bruce Wayne to become an Angel.


End file.
